It's Probably Because He's a Middle Child
by Auburgine
Summary: PostVoldemort’s defeat, Featuring an uptight though repentent still has some secrets and is kinda on the run type Percy. Who while ever getting better is still kind of a jerk. Filled with HBP spoilers, so if you haven't read it, be warned.
1. Percy makes a friend

I do hereby disclaim ownership of harry potter and the characters there in.

───────────────────────────────────────────────

Percy sat staring moodily into a glass of scotch. He was at _The Sea Witch_, a seamy pub in Worthing. It had been six months since the events that had driven him to his current location. Six months since that morning in June when he had arisen to the elated head of the minister of magic in his bedroom fireplace. Six months since he had resigned his post as junior undersecretary to the minister. Six months since he had felt anything but sheer unadulterated shame.

"Never figured you for this type o' place." Said a gravely voice behind him.

Percy turned and saw the grinning face of Eddie Dawlish.

"Thought you'd be more of a crumpets and tea kind of fellow." He continued.

"Go away Dawlish." Muttered Percy but without much feeling.

"Not much for manners either are we?" asked Dawlish complacently pulling up a chair.

Percy sighed. "What do you want Dawlish?" he asked bitterly.

"Got to talk to you." Said Dawlish in a low voice.

"So talk." Said Percy indifferently.

"Not here." He rose and glanced around furtively. "Follow me." He continued in the same hushed tone.

Percy rolled his eyes but complied.

They went into a small room at the very back of the pub. No sooner had the door closed than Dawlish swung around and hit Percy hard in the face. Percy went sprawling to the floor and his glasses flew to the other side of the room.

"You little shit!" hissed Dawlish furiously. "Did you really think that you would get away with it?"

Percy struggled to sit up. "What the hell is wrong with you?" he asked genuinely surprised.

Dawlish gave him a sharp kick in the side.

Percy groaned.

"You stole from me you good for nothing nancy!" raged Dawlish in undertones so as not to be overheard. "You tell me where they are or I'll kill you right now, I swear it!"

Percy was struggling to get his breath. "I…don't know…what …you're…talking about…" he gasped out. He rolled to the side narrowly avoiding Dawlish's foot.

"I'm talking about the Dorchester files!" hissed Dawlish. "You had us all fooled, thought you were Fudge's little pet. Little did we know that you were stealing top secret government files!"

Percy's mind was reeling. How was he going to get out of this?

"I took the papers..." he gasped out. Dawlish gave a low growl. "I took them because Scrimgeor told me too!"

Dawlish stopped short from the blow he'd been about to deliever.

"What did you say?" he asked dangerously.

Percy hurried to continue.

"It was the month before he left. Scrimgeor told me to take the papers and store them in a safe place and not to tell anyone…including him where I'd put them!"

"Why?" asked Dawlish, clearly not believing him.

"He told me that people would use them to spread anti-ministry propaganda and get him thrown out of office. He needed it to be absolutely secret. When he gave them to me they were magically sealed, I don't even know what they are!" he cried desperately.

Dawlish moved in again but Percy shouted for him to wait.

"Just check with Scrimgeor!" he pleaded. "Please, he'll corroborate my story…just check with him!"

Dawlish nodded but put one food roughly on Percy's chest so that he could not move. Dawlish pulled a small silver disc out of his pocket and muttered something under his breath. Percy knew that it was a communicator that put him in direct contact with his superior. He also knew it required concentration to work properly. He waited until Dawlish was fiddling with the dial on the rim and suddenly pulled his wand out and cried, "Stupefy!"

Dawlish flew back and hit a table sending it crashing on its side. Percy did not hesitate to shout "Expelliarmus!" but missed catching the wand because he could not see without his glasses. Dawlish was not knocked out; Percy had not expected him to be. Dawlish always wore a protective shield under his clothes to guard against stunning spells. He continued to hold his wand out to Dawlish's general direction.

"That was a big mistake boy!" shouted Dawlish. "I'm going to have you destroyed! I'm going to make you…!"

But Percy did not find out what it was that Dawlish was going to make him do as soon as his summoned glasses flew into his hand he disaperated.

Two hours later a young red haired man emerged from a store on a London street. He was dressed in gray pants with a navy blue blazer and a black and red striped tie and a black overcoat. He was carrying a small black briefcase.

He hurried through the busy streets head down, oblivious to everyone around him.

_I have to get out of England_ was the thought pounding in his head as he began to cross the street.

He was so preoccupied that he didn't notice the light hadn't turned yet. He looked up and saw the car.

In the ensuing chaos no one noticed that the man's briefcase had flown open…and that a polished stick of wood had rolled away into the rushing gutter.

Percy woke up with a pounding headache. He slowly opened his eyes. The room was blurry. Percy instinctively reached next to him for his glasses. Instead of his nightstand his arm hit a metal bar. Squinting Percy tried to sit up but lay back immediately with a groan.

"Are you alright?" asked a feminine voice in concern.

"Where are m' glasses?" rasped Percy.

There was a slight pause. "I'm afraid they got broken." She told him

"Then fix them!" grumbled Percy. "What happened? Where am I?" he asked.

"You're in the hospital," the voice told him. "You were in an accident."

_An accident?_ Thought Percy panicked. Was Dawlish making good on his threats already?

Percy struggled to rise.

"Where's my wand?" he demanded.

"Your what?" asked the voice anxiously.

"My wand woman! My Wand! Device used to concentrate magic and perform spells! Where is it?" he shouted furiously. He had to get out of there! If Dawlish was following through then St. Mungo's was the easiest place in the world to find him.

He was finding it extremely difficult to move. He realized that his leg was suspended in the air, and that the more he moved the more it hurt. He was also aware of a sharp pain around his rib cage, and significantly in his back.

"Where are my glasses? Let me up!" he ordered.

He continued to struggle and heard the woman with him calling for help. There were more voices and hand holding him down. Then there was the faint feeling of something entering his arm and then blackness…

The next time Percy woke up it was dark in the room. His head was no longer hurting, but it was cloudy making it difficult to think. His leg was still suspended and he found it difficult to move at all. He took several deep breaths. His throat was sore.

_Alright Percy, wake up!_ He told himself firmly. He had a sudden flashback to the summer after his third year. He had been vacationing with his family in Wales. While out with his brothers in the surrounding fields he had walked into a patch of dragon's bane, a plant which addled a wizards brain and made him want to sleep. Charlie and Bill had helped him walk back to the house to get the antidote. With dragon's bane it is crucial that you don't go to sleep or you will never wake up. To keep Percy alert Bill kept asking him arithmancy problems. By having something concrete to do he had been able to keep his head clear enough to stay awake.

Percy took another deep breath and then picked a name at random. _Arithmancy….Penelope Clearwater…character number first…P-E-N-E-L-O-P-E-C-L-E-A-R-W-A-T-E-R…7-5-5-5-3-6-7-5-3-3-5-1-9-5-1-2-5-9 added together equals eighty-three…reduce to eleven…reduce to two….I was in London. _Percy remembered. _I was crossing a street. Heart number…E-E-O-E-E-A-A-E…5-5-6-5-5-1-1-5…added together is thirty-three…there was a car…reduce to six…social number…P-N-L-P-C-L-R-W-T-R…7-5-3-7-3-3-9-5-2-9…I wasn't looking…fifty-three…reduce to eight…it was a muggle accident…not a wizard's accident. This is a muggle hospital…_

The shock of this last realization pulled Percy from the remnants of his stupor. He swore quietly. No wonder that woman had been so confused! He had talked about magic to a muggle! That was in direct violation of the International Statute of Secrecy sub-section eight! He could be arrested! Why did these things always happen to him?

_Calm down_. He told himself. _No one knows yet. If I can get out of this hospital without attracting suspicion then know one will ever know_. It was true that Percy had already attracted attention, but he had just been through a major accident, perhaps they would let it slide. He settled himself more comfortably as he began his plans for the morning. Before long, his eyes were drooping once more, and he fell asleep thinking about lucky days for a 2…_February 11, November 2…_


	2. Watching the Clock

"George Albert Weasley! Get your hand away from that pie or so help me I will make it so you never have children!" shouted Ginny furiously.

"Alright, Alright!" cried George drawing back his empty hand. "Sheesh," he muttered in an undertone to Fred. "Great idea putting Ginny in charge."

"I didn't know Albert was your middle name." whispered Fred.

"It's not, it's Dana." returned George.

"Huh" said Fred thoughtfully. "Didn't know that either. I'd stick with Albert."

"Whatever Fredrick _Ashley_." George retorted scornfully.

"Hmm, I see why we've never discussed our middle names before." Fred said reflectively.

"How about you stop muttering about your girly names and try to fix the mashed potatoes!" Ginny demanded.

George rolled his eyes. "Remind me why we're doing this?" he asked Fred in an undertone.

"I dunno, masochism I guess." was Fred's only reply.

The four youngest Weasley's and Harry were making a late Christmas dinner to surprise their mother. Bill and Fleur had taken their new baby girl Aurore for a trip to visit Fleur' parents in France. Just as they were supposed to leave for home a large storm had descended.

Apparating in stormy weather was dangerous, and though Voldemort had been defeated six months ago the Floo networks were still severely damaged from various death eater attacks. Fleur had refused to take the baby on a portkey in the middle of such dreadful weather. Mrs. Weasley had been torn between her concern for the baby's health (Aurore being the well documented light of her existence) and her desire for a the whole family to be together on the first Christmas since the dark lord's reign had ended.

Fred had helpfully pointed out that the whole family wouldn't be there anyway since Charlie was stuck in Romania and Percy was a prick. For some reason this didn't seem to make her feel better.

So it happened that two days after Christmas Mr. and Mrs. Weasley headed off to London to pick the little family up at Kings Cross, the first travel arrangements that Fleur and Bill had been able to make.

Harry had been the one with the idea of a surprise dinner, which the twins promptly took credit for. None of them really knew anything about cooking, but they figured since Ginny was a girl she would probably have the biggest aptitude for it. So they put her in charge. A decision they were coming to regret more and more with each passing minute.

Ron sighed in aggravation from his seat at the counter. "Ginny I don't even think it's possible to make radishes into roses. Do you see how tiny they are?" he asked holding up a mutilated radish.

"Well use your wand, dummy!" ordered Ginny impatiently.

"I AM using my wand!" answered Ron through gritted teeth.

"Fine then, you do the potatoes and Fred will do the radishes!"

"I am not doing radish roses." insisted Fred.

"Well I can't do them! I'm cooking the turkey!" Ginny yelled.

"Really?" said Fred scathingly. "Then would you care to explain why it's doing a jig on top of the cupboard?"

Ginny flushed a deep red. "I AM WORKING ON THAT! I DON'T EXACTLY SEE YOU DOING ANYTHING TO GET IT DOWN!"

The turkey was in fact dancing on the cupboard. Ginny was sure she had done the spell exactly how she had seen her mother do it but as soon as she finished the incantation the turkey had jumped up and started shimmying around the kitchen. Every time she waved her wand to try and get it to stop it would shake a drumstick at her cheekily and dance out of reach.

"It's ok Gin, at least its getting browner." said Harry encouragingly from his position scraping the burned bits off the rolls. Ginny shot him a look.

At that moment Fred dropped the pot of lumpy, overcooked potatoes he was trying unsuccessfully to salvage and its contents flew across the increasingly sticky floor.

"AARGH!" screamed Ginny as the turkey jumped down on her head, spring boarding itself out of the window. Ginny hopped back and slipped in the pile of mashed potatoes and pushing George into shelf where the pies were cooling…..

════════

"How simply wonderful of you children to surprise us with Christmas dinner!" said Mr. Weasley happily from his seat at the table.

"Yes dears, it was marvelous of you!" Mrs. Weasley was in very good form, delighted both at having her little granddaughter in her arms again and the surprise arrival of Charlie at the train station.

Ron and Harry smiled weakly and Fred and George exchanged dark looks.

Ginny smiled. "It was really no big deal. I hope everyone likes Chinese…" she said passing around the cartons serenely.

Some hours later the family was sprawled comfortably around the living room talking, laughing and arguing pleasantly.

"Hey Ginny, have a candy." offered Fred.

"No, thanks…" answered Ginny rolling her eyes.

"Bill darling, I know I've said this before but the hair thing is just getting silly…for goodness sakes you're a father! I could just nip upstairs and bring down the scissors, it won't take me a moment…"

Bill laughed. "You don't say…"

"Gin, I'll trade you this bag of taffy for two chocolate frogs out of your stocking…"

"I'm good Fred, thanks." answered Ginny with a raised eyebrow.

"I like ees 'air. Eet is what made me love heem." Fleur announced desicevely, causing Mrs. Weasley to scowl

"Ha! Take that Ron! Check!" shouted George triumphantly.

Ron rolled his eyes. "First of all, That is a bishop not my king, and second of all…checkmate!" he finished moving his knight into position and watching the little figure leap of his horse and wrestle the George's king down. Harry laughed from where he sat viewing the match.

Ginny was curled up by the fire talking to Hermione on the Weasley's newly acquired and magically installed telephone.

"…so I used the numbers book you gave me and ordered take away…Ron picked it up and had to call Harry seven times to figure out the money…it really is silly using paper, what if it ripped?"

"Seriously Ginny, if you don't want taffy how about a bag of chocolate covered raisins…you know how much I love chocolate frogs…."

"Charlie where on earth did you find such excellent specimens?" Mr. Weasley was asking his son incredulously as he examined the collection of old television tubes his son had just presented him with.

"So how's Switzerland? Meet any devastatingly handsome Sven's yet?" inquired Ginny playfully.

Ron seemed to become very interested in the conversation all of the sudden.

Ginny laughed. "Gunter's are just as good! What…? Ugh, hang on Hermione." Ginny put the phone down and faced Fred who was hovering next to her. "Fred! I am not going to eat one of your stupid 'turn you into a kitchen sink' poisons!" she yelled.

"Ginny, you wound me!" said Fred with exaggerated hurt in his voice. "If it were a prank I'd give it to Ron! Excuse me for trying to give my baby sister a treat!"

Ginny snatched the bag impatiently from him and tossed a piece to a very merry Pigwidgeon. He caught it in his beak and continued to zoom happily around the room with no change.

Fred gave Ginny a look. "See? I told you."

All of a sudden Pig started flashing violent shades of purple, blue and orange.

Ginny stuck her tongue out. "See? I told you" she mimicked.

"Oh, way to go Ginny! You could have killed my owl!" cried Ron.

"Oh sure, worry about the owl but laugh if it's your sister!" she returned.

"What do you mean 'could have been killed'?" asked George indignantly. "Why Fred, I think they doubt our skills!"

Fred started to reply but was interrupted by the sound of a sharp, loud sired. The family turned to look at the large grandfather clock that stood by the window. Percy's hand had spun suddenly and violently to 'Mortal Danger'.

No one moved. No one spoke. For the first twenty seconds, no one breathed.

Mrs. Weasley was up first. She jumped off the couch to stand in front of the clock in abject horror. "No…" she whispered. "No no no no!" she cried, shaking her fist at the clock as though reprimanding it, telling it to move her son back to safety!

Mr. Weasley rose just as suddenly. "We'll find him." He said firmly, though his face was very pale.

"How?" asked Mrs. Weasley wildly. "How, when we've been looking for him for months? How are we going to find him now?"

"We'll find him!" he said forcefully. "Bill, go to the bank and try to find out anything about activity on Percy's account, maybe we can track him that way."

"But Dad, you have to have a key to get into an account! I don't even know what number Percy's account is!" protested Bill.

"Try! Ask around! Bribe a goblin! I don't care! Just try!" shouted Mr. Weasley.

Bill nodded and rose to leave.

"8-0-7-3!" cried Mrs. Weasley suddenly.

Bill looked at her confused.

"Before he left us it was 8073!"

Bill nodded again and disapperated with a resounding pop.

"Fred, go to diagon alley and comb every inch! Rally your contacts, get Mundungus to help!"

Fred rose and disapperated without a word.

"George, I want you to go straight to St. Mungo's, show the staff his picture and have them contact other hospitals, every hospital! Go!"

George was gone before he finished his sentence.

"Charlie, head straight to the Ministry to get the aurors involved. I'm pretty sure Kingsley is working tonight…no, on second thought Harry, why don't you go, you know the aurors best." said Mr. Weasley. "Charlie, I want you and Ron to go to Hogsmeade…maybe someone there knows something.

Mr. Weasley turned to the others as Charlie, Ron and Harry disappeared in a rush of air.

"Ginny, stay here and take care of your mother."

Ginny opened her mouth to demand to take part in the search, but caught sight of her mother's ashen face. She nodded silently.

Mr. Weasley took a deep breath and turned to his shaking wife. He pulled her close and kissed her head gently. "We'll find him." He whispered."

He grabbed the his wand which was lying on the coffee table and was gone.

Ginny looked dumbly at the receiver she held in her hand and then mechanically held to her ear.

"Percy's dying. I'll call you back." She said and hung up the phone. And then burst into tears.

Mrs. Weasley did not appear to hear. She sank to the floor and stared at the clock with an empty, desperate look in her eyes. Ginny crawled over to her and put her arms around her, crying softly. Fleur was holding the now wailing baby. Together they sat and watched the clock.

For hours they waited without a single change. Then all of the sudden, the bells stopped and the hand that bore Percy's name in gold lettering slipped back to 'Unknown Location'.

Ginny and Fleur stared at each other, and for the first time all night Mrs. Weasley drew in a long shaky breath.

"Is he…" began Ginny the tears beginning to well again.

"He's alive." Mrs. Weasley gasped out.

"How do you know?" asked Ginny quietly. "How do you know?"

"Because his hand would have disappeared if he…if he…" she couldn't get the words out

"He's alive." repeated Ginny.

"Yes." said Mrs. Weasley tremulously. "But where is he?" and for the first time all night she began to weep.


	3. Leaving on a Jet Plane

Percy awoke the next day to the sounds of a nurse greeting his roommate.

"Good morning Mr. Carrington!" said a voice brightly.

Percy heard no reply from Mr. Carrington.

"Not feeling chatty this morning are we?" asked the woman in that horribly cheerful voice.

Percy didn't blame Mr. Carrington for keeping quiet, but was not very concerned about him as at the moment he was having his own problems. The pain he had felt last night was nothing compared to the torture he was feeling in his back

"Well I've got good news for you sir." The nurse had apparently turned her attention to Percy as he felt her pressing a familiar object into his hand.

Percy put the glasses on his face and immediately the room cleared.

"Thank you!" he said sincerely to the plump woman smiling over him.

"Oh now! Look at the change! Feels better now that we can see doesn't it!" She chirped merrily.

"Oh…yes, said Percy grimacing with pain. "Quite."

"What is it dear?" she asked quickly.

"My back…" gasped out Percy.

"Yes well that's to be expected. But you're due for another shot of Morphine." She fiddled with a tall odd looking metal thing beside the bed.

Percy was horrified to see that it was attached to him by what looked like a tube growing out of his arm. His horror subsided somewhat as he felt an odd sensation spread through his body. It wasn't that the pain went away; it was just that it was suddenly less intense, and suddenly he didn't seem to mind it. Whatever the odd machine was Percy decided it could stay.

"Could you perhaps tell me…?"

He couldn't get any more out before the nurse plopped down in a chair next to him.

"'Course you'd be wanting to know what happened to you! And who wouldn't? Well I'll tell you dearie you were a sight when they brought you in and that's certain. Stepping in front of a car! Did you ever hear such a thing?" She looked at him expectantly. Percy was slightly taken aback. He was wondering if she remembered she was talking about him, but before he could think of an answer she continued.

"Well, and I'm sure you're feelin' it now…leg broken in two places, three cracked ribs…almost lost a kidney you know!"

"And did I…er…by chance…say anything odd Miss…um…Miss?" Percy asked tentatively.

"Call me Netta dearie, and who wouldn't be saying odd things? Hopped up on morphine and a concussion to boot!" she asked unconcerned.

"Now then, I'm here to take your medical history Mr. Carrington." She said in a slightly more businesslike tone.

Percy glanced over at the next bed to see how Mr. Carrington was taking this. To his surprise the bed was empty. There was no one else in the room. Understanding slowly dawned on him. This had, after all been his plan. Spencer Carrington was the name of the identity he had created for himself…the muggle identity he had created for himself.

"How do you know my name? he asked slowly.

"Well it wasn't exactly brain surgery." said Netta. "Your briefcase was opened all you're papers were still inside. Goodness you carry everything with you don't you? We found you're birth certificate, drivers license, detailed family tree, work information, current address, past three addresses, school records including documentation of two skipped grades and up through an MBA at Cambridge, my but that's an impressive school!" she said reading from the chart she was holding.

"Is it?" asked Percy interestedly. He had chosen it because it sounded rather posh but he hadn't been sure.

Netta smiled at him. "Modest I see." She assumed a more businesslike manner.

"Right then, any allergies to medications?" she asked.

Percy looked at her blankly. People were allergic to those things? He didn't want to risk it.

"Yes." He said firmly. "All of them."

Netta looked at him strangely for a moment, and then burst out laughing. "I can always tell when a man gets to feeling better because he starts making jokes!"

Apparently one wasn't allergic to _all_ medications.

Percy smiled feebly. "Er, yes. No allergies actually." He hoped desperately that it was true.

Netta made a note on her chart.

"History of heart disease? High blood pressure? Diabetes?" she asked him.

Percy shook his head, inwardly thinking, heart disease? He didn't know what that was but it did not sound good. He hoped it wasn't catching. Hospitals were beginning to seem a rather dangerous place.

"Are you on any medications at the moment?"

"No." At least he knew the answer to that one.

"Do you take any illegal substances?'

"Certainly not!" he snapped, thinking uncomfortably of the papers concealed in the false bottom of his briefcase. The briefcase!

"Did you say you found my briefcase?" he asked suddenly.

"Yes dear, shall I get it for you?" asked Netta kindly.

"Thank you." He told her in a tired voice. Really his head felt very heavy.

"Well I'll get it for you, and bring your breakfast in too!"

Percy had been alone for less than twenty seconds when a man came in.

He was about twenty-five, with dark brown hair and eyes. He was attired what appeared to be light blue pajamas. Wasn't _there some sort of dress code?_ Percy wondered.

"Hello Mr. Carrington, I'm Dr. Andrews, I worked on your surgery."

"Er, yes. Thank you sir!" said Percy vigorously. What was surgery?

"That's quite alright sir, I was just doing my job." Answered Dr. Andrews casually, not looking up from the paperwork he was holding. "Now then Mr. Carrington, I need to ask you a few questions."

"Oh, Ms. Netta already took my history of medicine." Percy informed him.

Dr. Andrews looked up briefly at this slightly odd statement but quickly answered: "Yes, I need to ask you some more questions."

"Ah." said Percy nervously.

"Do you still live at the address listed here?" he asked.

"Yes?" he answered feeling quite unequal to the situation. He tried to remember what exactly he had written.

He began checking the leg Percy had up in a sling. "Does it hurt when I press here?" he asked.

"Rather." grimaced Percy.

"How about here?"

"Yes."

"Here?"

"Quite a lot actually."

"Good." said Dr. Andrews in a satisfied tone.

"Good?" asked Percy incredulously.

"Yes, that means no permanent nerve damage. Sarah! Come give me a hand here, get Barim too."

Another woman dressed in a matronly white dress arrived followed by a young man dressed in white pajamas similar to Dr. Andrews.

"Now we're going to have to turn you on your side to have a look at your back."

They proceeded to prop him up on his left side, which Percy found not only to be painful to his leg, but brought back the sharp pain in his back.

"Is it supposed to hurt this much?" he wheezed.

"Yes, it is certainly quite painful." observed the doctor impassively. "Incision looks good though, draining nicely."

Percy decided it was best to simply pretend he didn't hear that.

"Well Mr. Carrington," said Dr. Andrews as they lowered him back down on to his aching back. "We're going to keep you here for now for observation, but if everything looks good we should be able to send you home in about a week."

"Wonderful." said Percy. "It will be a relief to get this thing off my leg."

Dr. Andrews chuckled. "Well, that will be a while yet, it will be about two months before the splint comes off."

Percy blinked. "You're not serious."

The Doctor looked him in the face for the first time. "I'm sorry Mr. Carrington, but you're lucky that's all the damage that's been done. You almost died in the operating room because of your kidney. It's a miracle you're here at all."

Percy looked at him shocked.

"Well alright then! Have a good day, and if you need anything feel free to call a nurse!" And with that Dr. Andrews left without a backward glance.

Before could process the information he had just receive Netta came bustling back in. She set his briefcase on the table beside him and settled a tray of food on a rolling table which she placed over him.

"Now then, doesn't that look cheery!" she asked him.

It was two runny eggs and a piece of rather soggy toast.

Percy looked down at it glumly. He lifted his head up. "Netta, I had a areoplane ticket…voucher…whatever its called…it was for yesterday…or whenever the accident was…will it still be good?" he asked her helplessly.

"Let me see," said Netta opening the briefcase. "Ah yes, here it is…I'm afraid it won't be…they're terrible about refunding tickets…" she looked at the distress on Percy's face. "Never mind Mr. Carrington, I'll call the airline and see what can be done…how soon do you need to be there?" she asked referring to the ticket.

"Yesterday." Percy said emphatically.

"New job?" Netta asked kindly.

"Yes." said Percy. "It was supposed to be a whole new life."

════════════

By the miracle of bullying that comes with being a mother Netta had managed to wrangle the airline into extending Percy's ticket. And so it was that he found himself on a transatlantic flight exactly one week after the accident.

Percy shifted uncomfortably in the small stiff seat. His splinted leg was jutting out into the aisle of the 'aeroplane' as it was called. He had just spent the last five hours sitting next to an enourmous man who smelled of hair oil and garlic powder. It was a bit like being back in Quirrel's class. This had not helped his nerves about crossing an ocean in a large hunk of metal with absolutely _no_ charms to help! He'd been planning this of course, but he at least thought he'd have his wand in case of emergency. Unfortunately it seemed to have disappeared, and heaven knew Percy couldn't risk getting a new one.

They had landed in the "airport" in New York and Percy was seriously considering deplaning this death craft….but no, he had to follow the plan. He could not afford any more mistakes.

At least Oily had departed from the seat next to him, meaning he might get some rest at last. But no, alas. There were more people boarding. He tried not to show his annoyance as people tripped past him. Several people were casting dirty looks at his leg, as though thinking he had some nerve putting his broken limb where they wanted to walk!

"Argh!" shouted Percy as a young woman tripped over his leg trying to climb over him.

"Soree! Soree!" said the girl in a heavy German accent. She wore a shiny, metallic green jacket, pink plaid pants and had blonde hair tucked up into a denim newsboy cap. Large gold hoops adorned her earlobes, and her face shimmered with make up, including bubblegum pink lips. Percy did not feel it necessary to reply. Still apologizing the girl plunked down into the seat next to Percy, clutching a leather back pack on her lap.

"Why hello there gorgeous." said the balding man sitting on the other side of her. Percy rolled his eyes. The girl had to be twenty years his junior.

"Ello!" said the girl cheerfully.

"Well well, a foreign beauty. What are you doing in our beautiful country?" he asked ingratiatingly.

"I…em..vaycaytion…here." the girl responded slowly and carefully, as though reciting something she had memorized, which, Percy reflected, she probably was.

"Perhaps you'd like a friend to show you around?" asked the man in an oily tone.

She smiled very big. "Okay!" she said sunnily.

"What's your name princess?" he smarmed.

"Okay!" she chirped in the same tone, still nodding.

"Hey that's ok, who needs names?" the bald man asked. "Shakespeare said that…"

The girl nodded smiling.

"When we land I'm gonna take you for Indian food…think you'll like that Princess?" he leered.

"Okay!"

"And then later maybe we'll go back to my place and I'll show you something else you'll like…"

"Okay!"

Percy ground his teeth in disbelief. This guy was like a parody of every lecherous stereotype he'd ever read. Who in real life was actually like this? This girl looked about as classy as the gum she was popping noisily, but she at least deserved to be hit on inappropriately in language she understood.

Percy smiled as he leaned in to join the conversation.

"Shut it you wanker or I'll tell your wife what you've been saying to the trashy tourist while she was in the powder room." He said in friendly tone and laughed as though making a little joke.

"Okay!" said the German girl also laughing.

The man's face darkened, then paled as his wife arrived just then climbing across everyone—including Percy.

"Richard! I absolutely hate these teeny airplane bathrooms…" she started complaining immediately.

Percy closed his eyes. It was going to be a long flight.

Two hours later the cabin lights had been dimmed and most of the passengers were asleep. No such luck for Percy, who's discomfort had turned downright painful. He tossed back one of the pain pills the doctor had given him. He didn't really trust the things but desperate times….

"You…are…okay?" asked the German girl.

Percy was surprised. He thought she had been asleep.

"Just lovely thanks. Kind of you to inquire." said Percy somewhat sarcastically. What did it matter? She couldn't understand him.

"Hast Du etwas Zeit für mich?" she asked indicating his leg.

"Why yes, my leg does hurt very much. Very clever of you to pick up on that." said Percy conversationally. "Amazing you could process it over the loudness of your outfit."

The girl nodded sympathetically. "Dann singe ich ein Lied fuer Dich." She told him.

"Well don't worry you're little head too much about it, really it's the least of my worries. Do you worry about anything? Besides puppies and mascara?" he inquired.

"Auf ihrem Weg zum Horizont Denkst Du vielleicht grad' an mich." She answered, patting his arm and giving a little nod. With that she settled herself in her seat once more and closed her eyes.

"Yes. Thanks for that." Said Percy dryly.


	4. Percy Makes Another Friend

Percy looked up at 3468 West Hampton Street in San Francisco, California. So this was home now. It was an old Victorian style manor that had been divided into four different flats…_apartments_…Percy corrected himself. He must remember they were called apartments. He had procured it several months ago through a muggle agency, just in case he should need it.

Uncertainly he paid the cab driver (overpaid most likely judging by the delighted look on the man's face) and started hobbling awkwardly up the front steps, through the front door, into a small foyer, and through the door that led to his new apartment.

It was a fairly nice flat. Hardwood floors, a little kitchen, and a big bay window overlooking a little garden. It had come furnished, something Percy felt was very important. Nodding his satisfaction Percy placed his briefcase on the little dining table and opened it. He lifted the papers out and put them on the table. Then he formed a fist and smacked the inside of the briefcase hard. The false bottom flew up, and a stack of clothing (muggle in style and all impeccably cut) popped up from the impossibly small enclosure. They flew of their own accord into the bedroom and into various drawers and/or the closet.

Percy watched wistfully the last piece of magic he had performed and was likely to get to perform for a very long time. He wished though that it had been something slightly cooler. Like a security spell. Or fighting off a vampire. Anything other than unpacking. Still, it was practical if nothing else.

Underneath where the clothing had been was a sealed bundle of parchment. Percy grimaced at it and was just about to lift it when he heard a bump outside his door. He tensed immediately and slammed the case shut. Grabbing his crutches he moved as quietly as possible to the door.

His heart was pounding. Dawlish had found him! With no wand, no help and a broken leg to boot. Not to mention the vendetta he had incurred the last time they had met…was that only a week ago? It was rather hopeless. Still, it was better to go out and surprise him then let Dawlish find him cowering uselessly in a place without magical reinforcements.

Taking a deep breath he took a firm grip on the doorknob, threw it open and yelled. "HAH..argh!" his cry was cut off mid "hah", as he found himself nearly falling over a form ensconced in metallic green crouched low to the ground. With great effort and much reliance on the hated crutches he managed to stay upright.

"Son of a….!" gasped out the figure on the floor. A decidedly female figure, Percy realized. In fact…was that…?

"Are you crazy?" the girl demanded furiously.

"You!" cried Percy in shock.

"Yes…_me._" The girl said defiantly.

"But…but…you speak English!"

"Ooh, two for two man. Now guess my hair color." She said sarcastically.

"What were you doing pretending to be German?" thundered Percy.

"I don't know…what were you doing calling me a trashy tourist?" she shouted back.

Percy flushed hotly as he thought back to some of the things he had said on the plane.

"Oh, I guess that thought wasn't supposed to pop into my pretty little head." She said sardonically.

"What are you doing here?" he demanded to know.

"I live here." She informed him haughtily.

"No you don't! I live here!"

She rolled her heavily lined eyes. "Believe it or not Winston, it is possible for two different people to live in the same apartment building at one time." She informed him scathingly.

Percy turned on his heel to storm back into his apartment but unfortunately this caused his back to start spasming painfully. He cried out and hung on to the door frame.

"Ok, easy there, let me help you." The girl told him grudgingly.

Percy did not find this agreeable but as he was not sure that he could make it to the couch on his own he allowed her to help him there.

"When was the last time you took a pill?" she asked him.

Percy shrugged painfully. "I don't know…" he grimaced. "That one on the plane I suppose."

"Well can you take another one?" she asked.

"How should I know?" he snapped.

"What does it say on the pill bottle?" she persisted.

"I don't know!" he growled. "Look for yourself, its on the table!"

"Oh thank you for your permission to put you out of your misery!" she spat. Nonetheless she rose and looked where Percy had placed the things he took out of his briefcase.

"You freak! This says you're supposed to take two every four hours! No wonder you're in pain!"

Percy breathed in irritably. This girl was not very agreeable.

"And have you even opened this one?" she persisted, holding up a second bottle.

"I hardly need more than one type of _medication_." Percy pronounced the new word slowly and with distaste.

"Um, these are _antibiotics_! You have to take them." She said incredulously.

"I told you I don't need them." Percy insisted.

The girl rolled her eyes. "Great. The James Dean of Amoxicillin. Well listen up rebel without a clue, when a doctor gives you antibiotics…it means you need them! And when you get some nasty-ass infection do not come crying to me about it!"

"Why would I come crying to you?" he demanded to know

"I don't know Winston, why are you crying to me now?"

Percy could feel the pain escalating, along with the heat in his face.

"Fine! Give me both! I don't care! I just need something now!"

The girl stomped to the kitchen, threw open a cupboard, slammed a cup down on the counter, filled it with water from the tap, slammed the cupboard shut and then stomped back to the living room where Percy was beginning to writhe.

She slapped three pills into his palm and then handed him the glass, which he used to down the medicine.

He closed his eyes against a fresh wave of pain and the two lapsed into awkward silence.

At last Percy spoke stiffly. "I beg your pardon for yelling. I thought you might be an intruder."

The girl snorted at this, which caused Percy to color again, but before he could shout something at her she answered. "Its ok. It was a little odd, my being on the floor in front of you're apartment and all."

Percy opened one eye. "Why were you on the floor?"

"I'm house sitting. The girl who lives next-door is a friend of mine and she's gone for the next couple months. Anyway, she left her spare-key on top of your doorframe for me. I dropped it." She informed him.

"Ah." Percy acknowledged slightly embarrassed. "Also, about the things I said earlier, when we were in the air…."

She waved her hand and cut him off. "Forget it. I'll ignore your in flight behavior if you ignore mine." She told him smiling a little.

Percy nodded. "It's a deal."

"Ok, well, if you're all set…."she said moving to leave.

"Oh…er…yes…um…" Percy began, not meeting her eyes.

"Thank you." She told him.

"Hmm?" he asked confusedly.

"I believe the phrase you are looking for is 'thank you'".

"Oh. Er…yes…Thank you."

"Cate." She supplied helpfully.

Percy was unsure how to respond.

"Sorry, I forgot. Shakespeare doesn't care about names…." She said derisively.

"That was the wanker, not me…I thought we were pretending that didn't happen!" He reminded her.

"Oh yeah, he who offers lovin' and Indian food to poor naive foreign girls. Anyway, you were saying?' she prompted.

"Yes yes, thank you Cate." He said feeling exasperated.

"You're welcome Winston." Cate told him heading for the door.

"My name is not Winston! Its Per…" he stumbled over that near mistake. "Spencer. Spencer Carrington." He told her grandly.

She curtsied. "I'll see you around Winston…but hopefully not too often, you give me a little bit of a headache."

"Mutual I'm sure." He answered disgruntled.

And then, for some inexplicable reason, Cate grinned. Before Percy could think of how his face should respond she was out the door.


End file.
